In Every World, In Every Reality
by Shadowy Star
Summary: A collection of various AUs I wanted in one place. Chapter summary: How did it come to this? D/G
1. Double, Double, Tribbles Trouble

**In Every World, In Every Reality**

by Shadowy Star

July 2014

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Coldfire trilogy nor any other books, tv series, movies etc. mentioned or used here. They belong to their respective creators. I do own this story. Characters, places, locations and organizations not appearing or being mentioned in said books, tv series, movies are also mine. Do not archive or translate or otherwise use without permission.

**A/N:** A collection of various AUs I wanted in one place. They're all D/G, no matter the universe.

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**Double, Double, Tribbles Trouble**

**Summary:** When Captain Vryce returned to his ship from a much needed vacation, he wasn't expecting, well, this. D/G

**A/N:** hobgoblin123, that one's for you, honey. StarTrek fusion!AU.

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"Commander Tarrant, in my room," he said, and quickly crossed the bridge of the 'Heart of the Flame', his beautiful Nebula-class ship, sweeping many cooing brown and sand-colored balls of fur from various consoles in the process.

"Care to explain why I return from a week's vacation to find my ship infested with a dangerous life form even kindergarten children know not to keep as pets?" he inquired when the doors whooshed closed, trying to keep his voice mild.

"They seemed harmless when Ensign Lessing brought them from her visit home five days ago, and were certificated to have a much slower reproduction rate," his stoic First began, standing at full attention, his uniform impeccable as usual. Not even a trace of tribble hair. "And everyone was instructed not to feed them – much, that is," he continued, looking slightly uncomfortable. Which was probably the only facial expression Damien was going to get. Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if the unflappable man had any Vulcans somewhere in his family tree. "We didn't want to have a repeat of that infamous Enterprise incident. I don't know what went wrong."

"Ah. And what would be your recommendation to how we dispose of a shipload of tribbles?"

The other man quirked a brow, and Damien could see a slight relaxing in the muscles of a slender neck. "Send them to Qo'noS express and with a big red bow, of course."

"Of course." Damien laughed, then walked over to kiss his lover senseless. When they resurfaced for air, he continued. "Next time, we're going on vacation together. Captain's orders. That way, Lieutenant Commander sa'Restrath can practice her commanding skills and _you_ won't be getting into trouble. Or causing trouble, for that matter."

Gerald glared.

_FIN_


	2. Elegy

**Elegy**

**Summary:** Some say it was revenge for killing his loved one. Some say it was pain. Some say it was grief. Implied past D/G.

**A/N:** Written quickly while I should be sleeping. I'll probably regret it in the morning. Future!AU.

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They say the Immortal Emperor doesn't feel. They say he isn't even able to. In the whole of five millenia, there has never been any feeling showing on his beautiful alabaster face, no smile has ever touched his thin lips, no tear has ever left his cold gray eyes. There's just – nothing. No rage, no fury, no annoyance, no serenity, no peace.

The Immortal Emperor is unfeeling and distant.

That, in itself, is a blessing. The earliest chronicles vividly describe what happened in the first days of his reign when his fury has been unleashed upon the Church of Unification, the Southern continent and some native species called rakh. The Church has survived – shaken, broken and reformed beyond recognition by the very hand and mind that have shaped it into existence all those thousands of years ago. The Church, now called The Church of Compassion, has survived. The South and the rakh haven't.

Some say it was revenge for killing his loved one. Some say it was pain. Some say it was grief. No one knows, and no one is insane enough to ask. The Immortal Emperor walks and breathes the night, and rules with a fist of iron and fae and nightmares. Some say he's lost his capacity for feeling even before his rise to power, back then, when he's been the Hunter.

They are all wrong.

There's a sculpture of finest, rarest golden nu-marble in the Emperor's always darkened rooms, crafted by the Emperor's own hands. It depicts a man in his middle to late thirties, with shoulder-long hair and the build and height of a warrior. It's a figure found in every church, every cathedral across the two remaining continents though this one shows the Holiest One in a unusual position – sitting relaxed on a rock, his ever-present sword propped against it, chin on the fist of one hand, the other stretched out in invitation. The sharp angles of his face are softened by the slightest curl of sensual lips and a hint of mischievousness in the crinkle of expressive eyes.

It's here, kneeling before this particular statue of Holy Damien, Lord of Compassion, it's here that the Immortal Emperor weeps.

_FIN_


	3. Hora Somni

**Hora Somni**

**Summary:** On the verge of sleep, the youthful voice is soft and no longer monochrome. D/G Modern Earth!AU

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Bright moonlight sneaks in through partly closed curtains, bathing the man on the bed in harsh lines and sooty shadows. A monochrome painting of a slender shape and long limbs, sprawled across the bed in the arrogant, lazy way of a cat, skin leached of its olive color. Black hair flows across the pillow like spilled ink. Equally black lashes rest against high cheekbones. The man sleeps on.

The door opens without a sound, and another man slips in just as soundlessly. He crosses the room, all that expanse of charcoal gray right to the bed, and stops there.

The younger man on the bed awakes with a minute smile. He opens his black eyes and watches his lover watch him, his gaze sliding over the powerful frame. Another ray of light, softer now, illuminates the older man, making pale highlights dance on his chestnut brown hair, and just like that, color returns to that black and white photograph – the swirl of green and brown in the hazel eyes, the sun-kissed skin, glowing pale gold even now, the dark blue of a expensive jacket, discarded to the floor, followed by the pristine white of a shirt.

"Mm. Congress end early?" the black-haired man asks, sitting, wrapping his arms around his lover's strong frame.

The hazel-eyed one, unashamedly naked now, grins. Slides under the silk sheets. "Yeah." His deep voice almost a color of its own, dark and warm like hot chocolate. "Got the earliest flight possible."

"Weren't the air controllers in DC collectively on strike? And–" Whatever was intended to be said never makes it past a kiss that starts passionate and ends lazy and calming. "Missed you." On the verge of sleep, the youthful voice is soft and no longer monochrome.

"Missed you, too. Sleep, Gerald."

_FIN_


	4. Keep It Off-Screen!

**Keep It Off-Screen! **

**Summary:** Damien is the new action star and Gerald's cast as the villain of the movie. Modern day Actors!AU

**A/N:** for telly brat. Good luck, hon!

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Gerald swept his gaze across Damien's naked chest and up his strong arms, shackled high above the chestnut brown head. The artfully torn dark green tunic hung loosely from his broad shoulders and drew one's attention to his narrow hips where his black leather pants began. Really, no human being should possess a shoulder-to-waist ratio like that, Gerald mused, meeting his boyfriend's beautiful hazel eyes.

And completely forgot to keep his facial expression evil and threatening.

"CUT!" Jeff, star director and Hollywood's darling of the year, screeched, jumping from his chair and gesturing wildly.

"Gerald," the man then visibly made an effort to calm himself. "You're the villain! You're supposed to hate his guts. You're preparing to cold-bloodedly torture him, for God's sake! Could you please try to look a little less head over heels in love!"

Gerald grinned sunnily. "Um, no?"

Damien broke into laughter.

Jeff facepalmed. "I can't work like this!"

_FIN_


	5. Sea Song

**Sea Song**

November 2014

**Summary:** It was easier when I was a fisher and you a merman. D/G

**A/N:** Modern Erna Merpeople!AU

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"It was easier when I was a fisher and you a merman," Damien says, burying his fingers in the fine gold of his lover's hair and gently tracing the edge of a no longer pointed ear.

"Maybe. Maybe not," the other man answers softly, and he's just a man now, able to walk and breath air, and make love the human way. "I don't regret anything, Damien, _not a single thing_."

But his voice is only human, full of warmth and slightly rough after passionate lovemaking; no longer the enchanting, inescapable, otherworldly cadences that could melt your insides and touch your very heart, fill you with joy or sadness, make you feel content or restless.

And while, unlike in that ancient Terran fairytale, there are no sea witches on Erna, its fae also requires a price, and a Working like that cannot be reversed.

Slender fingers turn his head to meet silver eyes, serene and deeply familiar.

"Damien. So what if I no longer have scales and gills, and my days are now counted in decades and no longer in centuries? I've got you, in my arms, for all of those decades. It will always be more than enough."

_FIN_


	6. Things Not To Do When Stuck

**Things Not To Do When Stuck In An Elevator**

**Chapter summary:** A claustrophobic Gerald and his boyfriend get stuck in an elevator. Modern Earth!AU

**A/N:** Something experimental.

* * *

Panic (Gerald does anyway.)

Jump up and down (Gerald does anyway because, you know, panic.)

Try to distract oneself from panicking by doing logarithmic calculations for his latest project (A less than brilliant idea as Gerald discovers later when said project very nearly blows up in his face.)

Try to distract oneself from panicking by playing chess using an imagined board and various small items from one's pockets for pieces (Another less than brilliant idea, Gerald muses when he loses spectacularly after forgetting that penknife is actually one of Damien's knights.)

Make out with your gorgeous boyfriend ("An exceptionally brilliant idea, one of my best," Damien states later, even if a bit embarrassing when the workers finally manage to get the stupid door open.)

_FIN_


	7. Kingmaker

**Kingmaker**

Chapter summary: How did it come to this? Future Erna AU

* * *

"And I proclaim Damien, First of his name, of the House Vryce, King of the Three Continents of Erna!"

The old Matriarch took a step backward after her announcement, as if giving away a treasure of enormous proportions, letting the crowd look their fill, and she was right, of course – Damien was a gift beyond measure. Gerald swallowed against the tension in his throat. From now on, his other was no longer _his_. From this day on, Damien belonged to those people alone, to the clergymen and the fishers, to the weavers and blacksmiths and carpenters and farmers and teachers and knights of the damn bloody Church. To everyone else, just not to him.

His work was done.

The King straightened his shoulders and stepped forward, no doubt getting used to the feel of the narrow golden band around his head and the weight of his new responsibilities upon his shoulders.

Large banners in Damien's chosen combination of colors, bright white of the Church and Gerald's very own midnight blue, fluttered slightly in the warm breeze. Ganji –formerly on-the-Cliffs, now freshly proclaimed Capital City of the new realm– was ready to receive her new ruler. Scent of many flowers filled the air, white petals raining down, slowly covering the ground where King Damien I. would walk in a few minutes. Decades later Gerald would of all things remember the flowers.

They had agreed on this, and yet he couldn't help the creeping bitterness slowly filling his heart. It had been even his idea in the first place – that to keep his options open and as not to insult any of the many fractions that had supported his claim, the King had to stay a bachelor, available at least in theory.

He'd suggested hiding their relationship right from the start, even before Damien's ascension to the throne, scratch that, even before the plan to make Damien king had first started to take shape. What happened in the South clearly proved the Church's less than stellar success in ruling anything. When after giving careful consideration to all possible outcomes and a Divining or two, he'd suggested monarchy in general and Damien as the King in particular, his other first flat out refused. In the end however, and with lots of reassurance from Gerald, his stubborn lover had finally agreed, albeit reluctantly.

They had been aware it meant separation for a few months, maybe even years. Deeply in love and thus foolish, they'd believed they could make it. Devoting themselves to a life in shadowed corners and unused rooms, they had been prepared for half-lies and half-truths, for hiding and concealing their feelings.

And now it was too late. Because even if his other didn't –or choose not to– realize, they were irrevocably and definitely over. Half-lies and half-truths could and would never suffice, and sooner or later someone would remember and put two and two together. Or in this case, put one and one together, and Gerald simply couldn't allow the result to be a happily married two, not when the stability and the future of all known Erna was at stake. Not when –no matter how careful he had been back then or how well he'd hidden his ties to the Forest– somebody clever enough could still find out that the King had been aided by _the Hunter_ himself, not some distant Tarrant relative he'd claimed to be. Not when somebody could still find find out the King had been _sleeping _with the Hunter.

Decades later, when sometimes the pain would become unbearable, he'd try to remember this.

Gerald of House Tarrant, soon to be called the Exile Mage, bowed to his King.

_FIN_


End file.
